


Fine and Dandy

by tirsynni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On top of Carrock, Bilbo needs just a moment of rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine and Dandy

On top of Carrock, with the white orc behind them and the Lonely Mountain ahead, Thorin conferred with Balin and Gandalf and called for the party to rest before descending down the great steps. The eagles brought firewood and fresh kills for food, which Bombur promptly began cooking. The party looked away while Oin patiently convinced Thorin to shed his armor so he could inspect his wounds, primarily by claiming he could not hear his denials, so he might as well let Oin check his wounds. Knowing Thorin was in good hands, Bilbo slumped on the ground and stared at the sky.

The rush of energy from terror and excitement had long fled, leaving only aches and pains. Bilbo tried to ignore him, even as that annoying Took part of him catalogued the wounds and tried to discern from whence each had come. His head ached, but that could have simply been from the fall in the mountain. His ear burned, and Bilbo feared he knew exactly what happened there. His ribs and back ached. His hands hurt, and when he cared enough to glance at them, he saw they were bruised and bloodied. All in all, he felt so worn and battered that when Bofur came over with some cooked meat, Bilbo simply waved him off. His stomach angrily protested, but for the first time in his life, eating seemed to require too much effort.

Of course, he forgot the stubbornness of dwarves. With both his food and Bilbo’s in hand, Bofur plopped to the ground beside Bilbo. “Turning down dinner, lad? Are you wounded? Ill?”

Bilbo closed his eyes. He could sleep here. He was so tired even the rocks felt heavenly. “I’m quite all right, thank you. Just need some sleep.”

Bofur didn’t answer immediately, and Bilbo could have drifted off then but for the ache in his muscles and bones. Even his stomach felt bruised. That injury, at least, he could identify and feel proud: he had faced against the white warg and even been thrown by it and survived. He had faced down Azog the Defiler himself. Now that he could say he had done it, he hoped never to do it again.

Bofur’s fingers touched his head. Bilbo no longer complained about the strangeness of dwarves and instead took comfort in a friendly touch. When Bofur shouted for Oin, he felt content to ignore that, as well.

He couldn’t ignore Bofur when he said loudly, “Bilbo, please laddie, you need to open your eyes now.”

Bilbo reflected for just a moment that he could not only be sleeping but sleeping back in his warm bed in the Shire before he relented and cracked open a single eye. It was only one eye but he hoped his small glare was at least a little effective. His glare faded when he saw the worry on Bofur’s face, even as the dwarf smiled at him.

“Is something the matter?” Bilbo asked. He started to push himself up into a sitting position, but Bofur stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Stay still, Bilbo.” Bofur touched Bilbo’s head again, and when Oin left Kili to kneel beside them, he showed his fingers to Oin. Something wet and red shone on the tips. Nausea rising in his stomach, Bilbo raised a hand to where Bofur had touched, but Oin stopped him.

While Oin examined his head and Bilbo’s panic slowly grew, Bofur hissed, “He didn’t want his food, either. He turned it down!”

The voices by the campfire quieted. The silence and the tension on Bofur’s still smiling face only served to frighten Bilbo more. “I’m hungry, but I’m tired more,” he insisted. “I’m quite all right. Just let me sleep and I’ll be all right.”

He bit his tongue against asking about the blood on Bofur’s fingers or Oin’s quiet hums as his clever fingers pushed aside Bilbo’s curls. He hurt, yes, but nothing more than could be expected, and di they really have to look like that? He was fine, thank you very much!

“What is wrong with our burglar?” Thorin called to Bilbo’s right. When Bilbo tried to turn his head to look at him, Oin grabbed his chin with his free hand and held Bilbo still. Bofur loudly repeated Thorin’s question for Oin.

“A bump on the head and something nibbled at his ear,” Oin announced. He lightly flicked Bilbo’s ear, and Bilbo flinched. Oin released Bilbo and started searching through a grey satchel. It took Bilbo a moment to recognize it as one of Gandalf’s. “Strip, lad, and we’ll see what else you’re hiding.”

Bilbo flinched again, this time for an entirely different reason. “No, really, I’m fine and dandy, thank you. There is absolutely no need for me to –”

A new hand touched his shoulder, quieting him. He looked up to see Thorin kneeling beside him. The dwarf king was only half-dressed himself, with bandages covering him from stomach to shoulders. Despite having seen far more dwarf flesh than any self-respecting hobbit should have ever seen prior to this, the sight, especially considering it was Thorin, made Bilbo uncomfortable. He looked away to see Oin pull salves and yet more bandages from Gandalf’s seemingly never-ending bag.

When Thorin spoke, his soft tone further frayed Bilbo’s worn nerves. “If you have any additional injuries, they should be attended now. After that, you should eat, and then you can rest.”

“Indeed, Master Baggins,” Gandalf called. Bilbo looked over at him to see a leg of something in his hands, already half-eaten. The wizard looked no worse the wear for their adventures. “The quicker you get it done, the quicker you can rest.”

It was that more than the subtle command in Thorin’s voice which put Bilbo’s fingers to his ruined vest. His poor brass buttons belonged to that strange creature now. Still, undressing proved harder than expected, every muscle seeming to freeze and ache until Bilbo had to gasp and drop his hands. He closed his eyes against it and exhaled shakily.

“Easy, halfling,” Thorin murmured above him. Bilbo felt hands on his clothes and flushed when he realized they probably belonged to Thorin, who surely had to be hurting more than him after his fight with Azog. The thought of a king helping him like this did not help, either, but just the thought of undressing himself proved exhausting. He rested his head against the hard ground and breathed quietly.

“None of that,” Oin scolded, and Bilbo scowled when a now familiar hand tapped his cheek. “Eyes open now. Come along.”

He felt Thorin’s hands open his clothes, and another set of hands helped him sit up and pull the clothes off of him. Bilbo scowled but adamantly refused to open his eyes, out of both exhaustion and embarrassment. At that moment, he desired nothing more than to sleep and hopefully awaken under better circumstances.

Except Oin tapped his cheek again. “Come along, burglar. Open your eyes now.”

“Bilbo!” Thorin snapped, and now Bilbo’s eyes shot open. The first thing he saw was Thorin’s own familiar scowl, focused on Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo looked down and saw bruises blossoming over his torso but no signs of any open wounds. Bilbo frowned. He was definitely not the gentlehobbit whom left the Shire so long ago. “When did all of this occur?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to provide an answer which he _knew_ was not appropriate, and it ended up being curiosity which quieted him. As Oin applied salve to his ear, Bilbo studied the bruising on his front. It was already a wide range of colors, and he feared that the ache he felt now would not compare to the pain he would feel later. One spot was a particularly vicious blue. He winced.

“Bilbo?” another voice asked anxiously, and Bilbo looked up to see Kili and Fili headed their way. He flushed and scowled.

“I’m fine, I truly, truly am fine,” Bilbo insisted. “ ‘tis just some bruising. That’s all!”

His words did little to soothe the worry on their faces. Bilbo looked away and thought longingly of sleep, anything but Thorin’s words of him being a burden to their party.

“When,” Thorin repeated, “did all of this occur?”

Now Oin had started putting salve on his head, and Bilbo flinched away a little. His head ached terribly. He thought that occurred when he fell, and he said as much.

“Fell?” Thorin echoed.

Bilbo almost nodded but thought better of it. “When you were captured by the goblins,” he explained. “I was able to slip away from the main group but was attacked by a lone goblin.” He gestured toward his ear. Whatever was in Gandalf’s salve, it now felt much better. “It jumped on my back and bit my ear. We ended up falling off the bridge. I woke up in a pile of mushrooms, and it landed on the rocks.”

Where it became Gollum’s victim. The memory made Bilbo shudder. There had been no battle there, just one creature brutally beating another before Bilbo’s eyes so it could be made into dinner. 

There would be time to tell that tale later, though. Bilbo took a deep breath and continued. “I suppose the rest was from the battle by the trees. The white warg attacked me, but the eagles came before it could do much else.”

“The white warg?” Thorin demanded sharply. Oin started poking at Bilbo’s ribs and stomach, and Bilbo flinched and bit back a groan. A bed sounded quite wonderful just then. In a private room. With a lock on the door.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, a little more curt than he intended. Still, he was too tired to try to change his tone. “I fought with one orc and he shoved me back into the white warg. It threw me into the air and started at me, but the eagles came.” He scowled darkly. “One scooped me up like I was a rabbit and dropped me onto another’ s back.”

Bilbo was grateful to be saved, truly, but no one really liked to be picked up and then dropped in the middle of the sky like that. At least, he didn’t think anyone would. Who knew about Fili and Kili.

Still, he was rather indignant about the whole thing, and if he hadn’t been so tired, he would have said a lot more on the subject. Instead, he focused on not letting his eyes close so no one would have an excuse to poke him or yell at him anymore. Bofur was right beside him and his shoulder was quite inviting, but Bilbo managed to keep himself relatively upright.

Bilbo did not expect Thorin to rest a careful hand on the worst bruise on his chest, nor did he expect Thorin’s deep frown. “You truly fought the white warg then?”

Thorin’s voice was quiet, his tone unreadable. Bilbo managed to affirm it before Oin announced, “Nothing broken. Just some bad bruising. Did you pass out when you hit your head earlier?”

Bilbo thought he answered that, but it wouldn’t be surprising if Oin hadn’t heard him. “Yes,” he said loudly. “Just for a little bit.” He thought it was a little bit. He was pretty sure it was a little bit.

Oin frowned and studied his eyes, then touched his neck and head again. Bilbo knew he was only helping, but he was getting irritated with all of the touching. Finally, Oin nodded and withdrew. “He’ll be fine. Bofur, keep an eye on him. Who’s next?”

Bilbo grunted and let his eyes fall shut. He forgot Thorin’s hand was still on him until it glided up to rest over his heart. When it vanished, his chest felt cold.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, laddie,” Bofur murmured.

Something warm and soft wrapped around him, and then hands leaned him back so he lay on the ground once more. He half-expected for his head to meet rock, but instead there was more softness waiting for him. Bilbo sighed.

“Now you can sleep, Bilbo,” Bofur said, and Bilbo did.

When he awoke, the sun was completely up, and his entire body ached like the stone giants had tossed him around rather than boulders. The pain and misery distracted him so much that it took him a long moment to notice what made up his blanket and pillow.

Thorin’s coat and Bofur’s hat.

The sudden warmth blooming inside him made the bruises much more manageable.


End file.
